


Reasons

by crackinthecup



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Character Study, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Manipulation, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:36:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22884895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackinthecup/pseuds/crackinthecup
Summary: “When the Maia first comes to Eregion, you mistrust him. All of your people mistrust him. You alone among them draw the Maia close. You will keep an eye on him, you promise yourself. You will be careful.”A take on Celebrimbor’s side of the story and why it all went so wrong.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Reasons

When the Maia first comes to Eregion, you mistrust him. All of your people mistrust him. They have become resilient, self-sufficient, and do not need help from any of the Ainur now, not when none was offered before until too many had already been lost. You alone among them draw the Maia close. You will keep an eye on him, you promise yourself. You will be careful.  
  
Annatar, he calls himself, the Lord of Gifts. His skill is true and his counsel wise, and both he shares freely with whomever asks. You think you can sense darkness about him in those first few days, but it is only a whiff, nothing more, and then it is gone and does not resurface for a very long time. You let your guard down. You know only too well how undue suspicion can cloud the mind.  
  
He smiles and laughs with your people, even with you. His eyes remind you of gold ore, but infinitely richer, and you tell him as much, once, after one too many glasses of mead. He says nothing, but soon afterwards he is in your bed, and you quiver and gasp beneath him. He shushes you with a kiss, and in those moments you feel that he understands.  
  
Oh, if only your father could see you now. You have brought peace and stability and prosperity to your people through trust, through openness. There is no need for machinations, cruelties and manipulations behind the scenes, knives sharpened in the dark. You wonder if your father would be proud of you.

That night you tell Annatar everything about yourself, about your family and your past. You glance at him when he thinks you are not looking, and the expression on his face chills you to the bone; but you do not know why, you do not want to know why. Your words die in your throat. You think of your father, dead, because of the Oath.

They accuse you, when all is said and done, that you were too blind to see. You aren't. You do see, more and more each day, but you do not dwell on it. You push your dark, treacherous thoughts away. Everyone has bad days, you tell yourself. It doesn’t matter. Your fears cannot be true.

But they are true, and he schemes in secret, he weaves his plots, and you do nothing to stop him. He is harsher, less patient. When he says he loves you, there is something in his tone that makes your heart clench painfully in your chest. You’re not quite sure if you believe him.

But he says it again, another night, when you are nestled in his arms and his kisses are sweet against your mouth. And you cannot help it: you kiss him back, you give yourself to him. He has lied to you about his past, you’re sure of it by now. But you tell yourself it’s all right. Let him keep his secrets. Whatever darkness he may have encountered, let it go unmentioned, forgotten, cast aside. You have seen another side of him, and you think it is his truth: you think you can nurture it, breathe life back into it, and watch him glow underneath the light as he was meant to all along.  
  
You blame yourself when he tortures you. You think you deserve it, for being gullible, for being naive. For bringing this upon your people. So you clench your jaw tight as blood wells up beneath the tip of his knife. Love is not so easily scraped off your heart, but your will is strong as tempered steel. It will not, cannot buckle. You take his violence, you take the hurt of it, and you tell him nothing. 

By the time he is done with you, there are very few things you are still sure of. But you know you do not love him anymore.


End file.
